


A Very Melonville Christmas

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, guy speaks spanish and bill is Uncomfortably Aroused by it, i feel like im being a bit overambitious here but whatever, im calling it the sctv advent calendar, is this an advent calendar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Happy Holidays from SCTV to you. (Currently unfinished, on hiatus, prob won't continue? I'm out of ideas.)





	1. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like im going to regret this but ah well. :P happy holidays! it's a little early in my time zone, technically, but my goal is to post a chapter of this a day until christmas eve or christmas day. i can't guarantee i'll make every day, but i would like to! each chapter is an unrelated one-shot set around the late november/december holiday season. whatever it is you celebrate, i hope it's joyous and full of love. <3 fic 1: floyd's bah-humbug attitude is challenged by the camemberts being generally delightful.

Floyd's holiday memories weren't exactly fantastic. As a child, his Christmasses consisted mostly of sitting in church for hours on end, tending to live nativities and cleaning up more camel shit than he ever thought he'd have to, being forced to repeat prayers and praise until he "got it right" (usually punctuated by a belt-whipping as a child and a smack across the back of the head as a teenager), and being shoved into snowbanks, tripped so he'd land in an icy puddle, or taking freezing, unsalted back roads and sidewalks home, slipping and sliding like a clumsy foal taking its first steps, to avoid the previous two. Even his time in the military wasn't much reprieve; Christmas isn't any more fun when you're spending it gripping an assault rifle in a Vietnamese jungle praying you don't get killed or have to kill anyone else than it is in an abusive, staunchly religious home.

As a result, Floyd had adopted a very Ebenezer Scrooge mentality toward the holiday season in general. Every year, it was the same song and dance; he'd be coerced into returning to Colorado by his mother, Her Majesty Queen Mary Christine of Catholic Guilt of the House Robertson, only to be given silent and not-so-silent judges from his parents and eldest sibling. The other seven of his siblings, though, they would at least join him in bitching behind their parents' and brother's backs, and they would often gossip about what level of Hell their father had decided they were going to this year and if Boris had gotten even more batshit insane or not in the 12 months that had passed since they last spoke to him. (The answer was invariably 'yes'.) He'd be grilled by his mother on the same questions. Hell, he could hear the script repeating itself in his head starting about mid-October.

"Have you joined a church yet?"

"No, Mom."

"Why on Earth not? It's not like Melonville is a little podunk nowhere town, sweetheart."

"It kind of is, Mom."

"Well, surely there's a nice Catholic church somewhere around you. What about a girl, have you found yourself a wife yet?"

"Mom, for the last time, I'm gay."

"Oh, honey, I wish you would move on from that. This little rebellious phase was understandable when you came back from Vietnam but it's just getting tiring now. You're not getting any younger and I would like for my youngest son to give me grandchildren."

"You already have grandchildren. Several of them. And I don't like kids."

"Nonsense. Everyone loves children. You'll understand when you hold your firstborn for the first time, honey."

And every single time Floyd would end the conversation with 'whatever, Mom' and exit the room before his temper got the better of him and he lashed out at her, which he knew wouldn't end well for anyone.

That "bah, humbug" attitude didn't change at all for several years. That was, until Floyd met Earl and started going out with him. Earl had an infectious joy about him every year when the holiday season rolled around. He'd start humming carols and Hanukkah songs interchangably by the end of September, and beg Floyd to start decorating the nanosecond the clock struck midnight on November 1st. At first, Floyd didn't get it. The holidays were to be _dreaded_ , looked forward to only by naive children and churches that knew they'd be getting bonus tithe money.

Then he spent "Christmukkah" with the Camemberts in 1978, and things started clicking into place. Earl's family celebrated both the Jewish and Christian winter holidays, and it just so happened the first and second days of Hanukkah fell on Christmas eve and Christmas day that year. For the first time, Floyd didn't drag himself to Denver (he'd made up an excuse about having a nasty flu that he didn't want to pass to the family as opposed to saying he was off to celebrate a mixed-religion holiday with his mixed-religion half-Israeli same-sex partner), instead accompanying Earl to his family's home.

Those two days were joyful, convivial, and full of love, so much that Floyd swore it was palpable. Earl's mother lit the menorah candles, read from the Torah (in Hebrew, surprisingly, and her children admitted to Floyd they had no clue what she was saying but nodded and smiled along), and Earl and his sisters proved their Hebrew wasn't as rusty as they previously thought by joining in on a couple of Hanukkah songs.

Come Christmas day, Floyd's sheer height came in handy when Merle Camembert needed a little help placing a star atop the Christmas tree, and with a fire roaring in the hearth, the family exchanged gifts (including a couple wrapped in blue and white wrapping paper and ribbons for Zipporah, who squealed with delight when she received an oven mitt made to look like an owl and, interestingly, a giant pink stuffed unicorn- so that was where Earl got his sense of humor). The final gift under the tree was addressed to Floyd.

He'd already been granted a couple of new ties from Merle, a pair of hilariously fuzzy purple slippers from Zipporah (his size! how'd she know his shoe size?), and a plate of gingerbread cookies from Earl's sisters (Ariel and Sarah were consummate bakers and terrible at shopping for presents, especially for people they didn't know very well). A bit surprised to get another box handed to him, Floyd knitted his brow in confusion and gave it a little shake to ascertain what was inside, like a little kid. No clues, so he tore into the wrapping paper (gingerly, though he'd already been told he could go for gusto; those childhood memories of getting the snot beaten out of him for making a mess were powerful), opened the nondescript box, and found it empty. He gave Earl- whose name was on the label- a baffled look, nonverbally asking him if this was supposed to be funny.

And then Earl pounced him and pulled him into a kiss, smiling against his lips and only backing off when he needed to catch his breath. The Camemberts erupted into mixed "aww"s and laughter, and Floyd, though he was about as red as Santa Claus's suit, was still a bit baffled. "What's the joke, here, Earl?"

"No japes, baby." Earl pulled him into another kiss, this one much shorter and less silly. "Your present is love. All the love I can give you and then some. You need it. You deserve it."

Floyd almost teared up when Earl's entire family echoed his sentiment. "You know, you haven't told us much, but I can tell you went through something," Zippy said, placing her hand on Floyd's arm gently. "You're safe with us."

Earl's sisters nodded in unison (they would be creepy twins if they weren't so damn bubbly all the time), and Ariel chirped, "You're a really nice guy. Whatever happened, you didn't deserve it."

Then Merle put a hand on his shoulder, smiled at him, and said, "Welcome to the family." That was when Floyd broke, and the next thing he knew he was swept into a group hug.

And thus, he found new excuses every year. Usually, they hinged on him being sick; he had the flu, there was a cold going around, he hadn't gotten his whooping cough booster and he knew there were going to be new babies and he didn't want to risk getting them sick. It was 1981 before he told the truth.

"Mom, I'm not coming back for Christmas."

"Are you sick again?"

"No, I... I'm spending it in Melonville."

"... You met a woman, didn't you?"

"No."

"Then why aren't you-"

"I'm spending it with my _boyfriend's_ family."

His mother fell silent. "... Your what?"

"Mom. How many times do I need to tell you? I'm gay. I like men. I will not marry a woman because I don't want to date a girl."

"... Tell me he's at least Catholic, Floyd. If you're that bent on making this decision the least you could do is date in the church."

"Actually, he's half-Jewish and half-Protestant, and they do Hanukkah and Christmas."

"You're breaking your mother's heart... your father's going to be furious."

"Let him be furious, Mom, Dad's done nothing but torture me since I was little. I don't give a damn what that old piece of shit thinks anymore." A lie, but he wasn't letting this surge of courage pass by unused. "Everything I do or don't do pisses Dad off, and I'm done dealing with it. Now, if you'll excuse me, we need to get going. His mom and I have an ongoing dreidel tournament and there's a pile of chocolate coins with my name on it."

As he lowered the receiver, he heard his mother shout, "Floyd, wait-" before he hung up.

"Baby, come on, we gotta-" Earl paused when he noticed Floyd rubbing his temples. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I told my mom I wasn't coming home because I was spending it with your family, and I think I might as well have told her I was spending it sacrificing goats and eating babies."

"Floyd." Earl's tone was half-amused and half-flatter than Kansas. "You're kidding, right?"

"Doll, my mom thinks I keep saying I'm gay to 'be rebellious' and spite her and my dad. You really think she's very enlightened on the whole different-religion thing?"

"Hm." Earl had to concede the point there. "Well... who gives a shit what they think?" he asked. "It's not like you have that positive of a relationship with your parents anyway."

"Yeah, no, it's not them. It's my brothers and sisters."

"They like you, right?"

"Most of them."

"Do they get guilted into coming home every year, too?

"Yeah, most of us hate our parents' guts. Boris's too."

"Then they'll understand." Earl kissed Floyd's forehead and gestured for him to stand up. "Now, we gotta get on the road. It's starting to snow so traffic's gonna be hell."

The ride to Earl's parents' house was pretty quiet. Earl was the one to break it, saying, "I think you'll like your present this year."

"... Doll, can I tell you something?"

"Hm?"

The car stopped at a red light, and Floyd leaned over to kiss Earl gently on the lips. "You're the only present I need."


	2. I Saw Billy Kissing Santa Caballero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Needle has feelings for someone very near and dear to SCTV's collective heart. Good thing it's time for the annual Christmas party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IVE MADE A HORRIBLE MISTAKE AND NOW IM GONNA HAVE TO WRITE MORE OF THESE ASSHOLES. GODDAMMIT.

The SCTV Staff Christmas Party- yes, capitalized, it was that important to its organizers- was never really all that special to most members of the staff. The most memorable years so far had always been due to disaster or a communication breakdown; the tree bursting into flame, Bobby Bittman showing up in the gaudiest Hanukkah sweater he owned to steal half the buffet for himself and Sammy Maudlin, Johnny LaRue getting drunk, pulling down his pants, and getting uncomfortably intimate with a wreath.

But this year, by god, it was going to be memorable for a good reason, at least for Bill Needle. If it killed him, it would be good. He'd been agonizing over this for far too long to not go through with it.

He'd accosted Floyd Robertson in his office in October. With the strength no one suspected him, a relatively small person, of possessing, he'd lifted Floyd from his chair by the lapels, slammed him against his filing cabinet, and demanded... dating advice.

Floyd was absolutely baffled, though that may have had more to do with Bill's idea of asking for dating advice being yelling "How do you know if you're gay" at him. In retrospect, probably wasn't the best way to ask for his help, but it got the point across. After all, he was panicked. He and Honey Pie were on the verge of divorce, and as a last ditch effort, they'd decided to open their relationship to other people. The person catching his eye being a guy was a new, confusing, and mildly terrifying feeling.

For two months, he'd been quietly sneaking into Floyd's office when no one was around to share a stiff drink or 3 and ask him what the hell he should do. They had a plan. Earl was in on it, but nobody else.

Floyd's final words of wisdom to him three days prior revisited him. _The worst he can do is say no._ With a deep, shaky inhale, Bill sipped his drink for a bit of liquid courage and glanced at the little sprig of mistletoe hung mostly as a joke, scarily near a spotlight. It didn't stop people from pausing underneath it to beckon the object of their affections closer and kiss them, of course. Bill had caught Earl doing that very thing, trying to play dumb, about 17 times with Floyd. "You're supposed to be helping _me_ get laid tonight, you jackass," he'd said, only to receive a blush and nervous chuckle in return.

Through the evening, Bill inched himself closer to the mistletoe, acted like he was looking around for his wife, tried everything he could to look like he was most definitely not trying to catch anyone in particular's attention. _Play it cool, Needle. For once in your life, stay calm._

"So your wife ditched you?"

Bill jumped a bit at the sudden arrival of Guy Caballero at his side, wheeling up to him like absolutely nothing was amiss. "Shame. Y'know, at this point, I'd dump her. I don't think she likes you much anymore, Bill."

Bill wanted to make a smooth reply in return, wanted to do something, anything that would be a hint that wasn't overtly blatant, but all he managed to do was clear his throat, adjust his glasses, and choke out a "Mmhm." Fuck. He hated this, hated that he was reduced to a schoolboy with a crush, hated that he didn't know what to do. Bill Needle was always in control of his life before. He wasn't anymore, and it scared the shit out of him.

He scanned the crowd briefly, made eye contact with Floyd, and sent a subtle nod his direction. Floyd responded with a smile and disappeared into the throngs of people, and an uncomfortable silence fell over Bill and Guy. "... Nice party this year."

"Not bad," Guy replied, scratching under his nose casually and crossing his legs in his wheelchair. He didn't even pretend he needed it anymore. 'It's for respect' was a clumsy excuse, but it got people off his back. Awkward silence fell again.

Then Bill felt hands on his back, noticed Earl giving Guy a shove in his wheelchair, and realized Floyd didn't know his own strength because he ended up in Guy's lap, nose-to-nose with him. _Shit, shit, shit, no, no, abort!_ was his immediate thought process, his glasses already fogging over from the sheer heat of his skin. Shit. Shit, this was not how it was supposed to go!

Then he noticed a bright pink blush dusting Guy's cheekbones, and his heart leapt in his ribcage. _No, no, don't get ahead of yourself. He's probably embarrassed because you're in his fucking lap. That isn't normal._

"Um."

"... Hhhhhhi."

"Hi."

Bill chewed on his lower lip and glanced over Guy's shoulder, desperately, but Earl and Floyd had already fled to a corner of the room. Earl grinned like a loon and gestured for them to get on with it, while Floyd sent a pointed glance over Bill and Guy's heads. Bill followed his gaze, Guy followed his, and their eyes rested on the sprig of mistletoe. "... Oh."

"Um."

A heavy silence. "... I can explain-"

"Oh, shut up," Guy began, cupping Bill's face in his hands. "You're an idiot, you know? You had to put together a whole thing, huh?"

"I... I didn't-"

Bill was cut off by Guy's lips on his own, his mustache tickling him just a bit, and with a shudder, he practically melted into his arms.

They parted, and were quiet for a moment, oblivious to the eyes of the rest of the partygoers on them.

Guy broke the silence. "... You... you wanna get out of here?"

"And...?"

"We have a lot of talking we need to do right now."

'Talking' was punctuated with a smirk and coy eyebrow waggle. Bill swallowed all of the saliva in his mouth, squirmed off of Guy's lap, prayed the boner he'd popped wasn't too horribly obvious, and whispered, "S-sure."


	3. Feliz Navidad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Innocent conversations can lead to very dirty places very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's been a massive shipping error. i hate myself a little. :C (i believe it's implied at one point that guy may or may not be an illegal immigrant from panama but shhhhhhhh. im trying to keep these chapters from going x-rated but its getting Difficult.)

The silence was palpable and almost uncomfortable. If anyone else had been with him, Bill _would_ have found it uncomfortable, deeply so, really, but... to him, Guy's presence was calming. He noticed himself clenching his teeth less and his heart rate dropping around him, now that they were getting settled into their relationship. There was still a tiny voice at the back of his head telling him _it's a fling, you're a fling, all this is going to do is wreck your friendship_ , but for once, Bill could ignore it. If nothing else in his life could go right, he felt like he was allowed to latch onto one thing that did.

"... You're awfully quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"Oh, god help us all." Guy smirked and elbowed Bill in the ribs gently. "It's Christmas, Bill, loosen up."

"... Honey's gonna be pissed I didn't come home tonight." Bill sighed quietly and adjusted his glasses. Floyd and Earl threw a more intimate holiday party for their friends some time after the SCTV staff party. Their invitation was an honor to accept, sure, but as the night dragged on and Bill found himself looking forward to going home less and less, a sense of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. That was, until Earl and Floyd offered him their couch or guest room, which ever he preferred, if he didn't want to head home. (God, Camembert was like a mind reader sometimes. How could someone be so stupid and so perceptive at the same time?) Thank God that Guy had no such worry and stayed just because he didn't want Bill to be entirely alone in the house of virtual strangers.

"You're worried about her? She's slept with half the town and you're worried about what she thinks?" Guy asked. "Is this about... what she thinks of us?"

"What else would it be about?" Bill crossed his legs and focused on a pink lightbulb on the still-twinkling Christmas tree. "I don't understand it. One night, I'm disgusting and diseased and a liar, the next night it's sexy as hell that I'm seeing a man on the side and she wants to watch. Fucking watch!" An involuntary shudder ran through him.

Guy quirked an eyebrow. "Is she _jealous_?"

"Maybe? Fuck, I don't know, she's impossible to read. It just pisses me off that she flip-flops like that. Either I'm a pervert or she wants to watch us fuck. We haven't even-"

"Bill, calm down." Guy gripped Bill's wrist and only then did the latter notice he'd started flailing his hands and his volume was increasing. "It's Christmas. Honey's not here. It's you and me and _no one else_." A half-truth. Earl and Floyd were asleep down the hall, but... Bill had heard they were pretty heavy sleepers. The tree's multicolored lights shimmered down on them, all shades and hues the rainbow had to offer. Bill's silence was heavy for a moment. Then he made eye contact with Guy.

God, he was a specimen. Sprigs of gray hair flecked his temples, his brown eyes were full of nothing but affection, and the lights illuminated his tan skin beautifully. "... You gorgeous asshole," Bill mumbled, adjusting his glasses. "Of all the people on this Godforsaken planet, I had to fall for you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, _corazoncito_." Goddammit fucking all, Guy whipped out the Spanish terms of endearment. How could anyone resist that? Sometimes, Bill forgot that Guy even spoke Spanish, a skill he'd learned growing up with a Panamanian father (and spending a few years in Panama himself, as a boy), but then he'd pull out some shit like "corazoncito" or "mi rey" and he would melt, absolutely _melt_ into Guy's arms.

And melt Bill did, leaning into Guy's side with a heavy sigh. "Call me that again," he whispered, his anger and frustration at the way his life was going instantly dissipating. He couldn't be upset.

"What? _Corazoncito_?" Guy smirked and ran a hand through Bill's hair. "You like that, huh?"

"God, yes. I don't even know what you're saying and I like it. You could be calling me a jackass for all I know."

"Nah. I reserve _cabron_ for the people I don't like. You're safe." Guy wound a lock of wiry blond hair around his finger, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Y'know, you mentioned earlier we haven't... you know, yet."

"Mmhm." Bill's voice was somewhere between drowsy and sultry. Guy's reply was most definitely the latter.

"What do you say we head into the guest room and fix that?" Guy's hand moved from Bill's hair to his face, and his thumb trailed over his lover's lips. " _Quiero hacerte el amor._ Please."

Well, Bill had no clue what Guy said, but the tone he said it in sure as hell sounded hot. "... In someone's guest room, though?" he asked, still hesitant. "I mean-"

"Just be quiet."

Not especially difficult. Then again... "I've never been with a man before."

"Yeah, me either. It'll be a learning experience for both of us. Yes or no?"

"... Absolutely."

***

"Fuck is that noise?" Earl grumbled as he was roused by something... interesting happening across the hall. Floyd was already at the door, pressing his ear against it and giggling like a schoolboy. "What's so funny?"

"Oh man, come here and listen to this for a second."

Earl rolled his eyes and pried himself from the warmth of his bed, padding to the door and pressing his ear against it with Floyd. The sound was a bit more distinct here, and a few words were just audible enough for Earl to get a frankly uncomfortable picture in his head.

Most of it was unintelligible, but someone pleaded _"Speak Spanish to me"_ before a second voice chimed in, in Spanish of course, and Earl had no clue what he was saying but it sounded... dirty. "Oh my god, are they...? In our guest room?"

"Oh, yeah, they're getting busy in there." Floyd snickered again. "You wanna show them up?"

"Oh my god, Floyd, that's our boss. I would rather he not hear us having sex."

"We can hear him!"

"No, Floyd." Earl was quiet for a moment. "... What do you think they're doing? You think it's just, like, touching, or the full monte?"

"You haven't been listening as long as I have. Caballero's totally hitting a home run." A pause. "Several, actually, from the sounds of things." Another pause. "Should we torment them about it in the morning?"

"You do what you want. I'm not gonna risk pissing off the owner of the station." Earl pulled himself from the door and trudged back to bed. "You know, it's kind of incredible we can hear them across the hall through two doors. They're gonna come out of there deaf as posts."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing." Floyd smirked as Earl pulled a pillow over his head and turned onto his stomach, trying to block out their less-than-tactful houseguests to get some much needed sleep.

"Come to bed, Floyd," Earl grumbled, muffled under the pillow.

Floyd wandered back to bed and lay beside his partner for a moment, before saying, "You'd think they'd have picked somewhere more romantic than someone's guest room."

"Go to sleep, Floyd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so god bless google for giving me several resources with which to cheat my very rusty spanish into something passable. of note, of course, is that dialect varies from country to country but the phrases i used seem to be common in latin america. a quick briefer of the spanish guy pulls out:
> 
> "corazoncito" = 'little heart', used as a term of endearment ala 'sweetheart' in english  
> "mi rey" = 'my king', bc spanish speakers are real good at going 0 to 60 really fast  
> "cabron" = literally a male goat but used more like 'dumbass' or 'jackass'  
> "quiero hacerte el amor" = 'i want to make love to you'


	4. O Tannenbaum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floyd, you really need to stop being so self-loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now back to ur regularly scheduled earl n floyd fluff which tbh i give like two minutes. im dying over here.

Earl's holiday joy was infectious, Floyd had to admit. He'd spent most of his life bah-humbugging his way through Christmas, but now that he was with someone that actually made it enjoyable, things were different. The only issue was Earl's insistence on a real evergreen for their Christmas tree. Floyd had grown up with a fake tree; even if the Robertsons could afford a real tree every year, his father wasn't going to go to that effort. Floyd's few positive childhood holiday memories were mostly sneaking popcorn off of the garlands around his family's questionably-constructed fake tree (probably full of lead paint and carcinogens, ah, the good old days), being allowed to stretch his wings as a singer while caroling with his church, and the one year his parents actually spent a decent amount of money on him and bought him a new bike (although it was only because he'd gotten a paper route and couldn't get far on the rickety bucket of rust he already had). After that, well, it was a lot of sitting in church and praying and getting oranges and tongue depressors in his stocking while Boris got new bikes, new clothes, new toys, new everything.

He had to admit, though, the real tree smelled a hell of a lot nicer. The warm scent of pine needles filled the living room, mingling with the sugar cookies Earl had put in the oven (and after about 30 "reminders" from Floyd, set a timer on so they didn't catch fire). Strings of multicolored lights glimmered on the branches. Earl, currently, was digging through a box of ornaments, most of them just brightly-colored baubles. A few, though, were novelties, ones he'd received as a boy and ones he'd purchased as mementos for himself and Floyd. A hot air balloon, a sailboat, Mickey Mouse dressed as a train conductor, a bright red VW bus. Floyd's personal favorite was either the amusing little bat with vampire fangs adorned in a Santa hat- probably a Halloween decoration repurposed in five seconds to be Christmassy enough- or the custom made microphone, not unlike the ones on their news desk. One of Earl's nephews had made it in art class, and it didn't look that great, but for a ten year old's handiwork it wasn't bad.

"You know," Floyd said while holding the bus-shaped ornament, "I forget that you used to be a giant hippie sometimes."

"Yeah, if you could've seen me when I was 20 you would've wanted to punch my lights out." Earl smiled and laughed softly as he nestled a golden ball ornament on a branch. "You would've still been in the army, I think."

"Honestly, I'm surprised we never ran into each other at a protest. I was at a few." Floyd paused. "... Just on the wrong side of history, is all."

"Oh, babe." Earl sighed softly and stepped away from the tree to wrap his arms around Floyd's waist. "You thought you were doing the right thing. You wanted your family to be proud of you. Nothing wrong with that. It wasn't like you joined the army because you wanted to go kill people for fun."

Floyd closed his eyes and sighed a little. "Yeah. I guess you're right." He moved out of the embrace and gently placed the bus on a front-and-center branch. "... You know, I still don't understand why you picked me out of all of the people you could have had."

Earl smiled a little, wistfully, and returned to the box of ornaments. "Floyd... I really don't know how to explain it to you any better than I already have." He selected the last few baubles and placed them on the tree as he spoke. "Yeah, I thought you were a jerk at first. Cocky and arrogant and rude and stuck-up. But... you know, as I got to know you, and you let your walls down a little, I realized that wasn't who you really were." Earl finished with the ornaments, backed away, and admired his handiwork for a minute. He then turned to Floyd and caressed his cheek. "You're a good person, Floyd, whether you realize it or not. The real Floyd Robertson isn't that cocky asshole with an attitude problem. He's a sweet guy, really."

Floyd nuzzled Earl's palm gently and smiled at him sadly. "Doll..."

"I'm not done," Earl interrupted. "The real Floyd is actually really nice. He loves his friends and he takes people who need someone under his wing whether he realizes he does it or not. He works hard and he's good at what he does. He's smart and he's funny and he's good at so many goddamn things that it makes my head spin." A pause for a soft giggle. "He kisses his fiance good morning and good night every day without fail, too, so he has that going for him."

Floyd laughed quietly and took Earl's hand in his, bringing it down from his face and settling onto the couch with him. "... God, I'm so lucky to have you," he whispered, holding tightly to his beloved. "I'm so fucking lucky."

"Not as lucky as I am, baby," Earl responded, gently stroking his thumb over Floyd's cheekbone. "Not as lucky as I am."


	5. Our Gay Apparel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floyd and Bill have more in common than they realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DONT CARE THAT ITS 1 AM ON DECEMBER 6TH I WROTE THIS MOSTLY ON DECEMBER 5TH IT /COUNTS/. of note: i'll be starting a new job soon, and writing might take a bit of a backseat until i get adjusted. it's only part time so i probably won't be out too long, but if this misses a day or several, that's why!

The sudden inclusion of another couple in Earl and Floyd's social circle was an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome change, at least for the former. Earl, being Earl, welcomed Bill and Guy with open arms, greeting the ever-uptight Needle with an overly personal hug and cheery "welcome to the family" on the first game night. Guy had responded to Earl's offer of a hug with "Touch me and I'll cut you." Earl hadn't even changed his expression as he backed away, his overly-cheerful grin still plastered to his face.

With the holidays, it was hard to put together an SCTV Game Night. "Game night" was even kind of a misnomer this time of year. Usually, they'd be getting together and just doing whatever the hell sounded fun. That may have been watching a movie or two, especially bad ones, or taking in a game on TV, or the less-athletic members of the group (poorly) reffing a one-on-one pickup basketball match between Floyd and Wanda Falbo. She always mopped the floor with him, which at this point Floyd suspected was a judgment made more because it was funny than it was true. He was six foot five with a crazy wingspan, and Falbo was five foot nothing on a good day. He had to win eventually, right? (So far, he'd only beaten her in a couple of Atari games and horseshoes one time by sheer luck alone.)

None of that happened around Christmas. Falbo and Jill were out of town, visiting Jill's family, leaving the founding four members of the crew to entertain the newcomers. Sammy and Bobby didn't have any issues with that. They were outgoing, sociable folks anyway, and had no fear of looking stupid in front of their boss and his de-facto second in command. (Sure, technically that went to Edith Prickley, but was she dating the owner of the station? No, she wasn't.) Hell, even Earl seemed right at home. He clicked with Caballero surprisingly quickly, for two people that didn't talk much before unless it was the former insulting him.

Floyd and Bill had an ongoing connection anyway, albeit a tenuous one. After all, Floyd was- inexplicably- the person Bill had come to asking for advice in the first place. (Well, "asking," if by asking one meant shoving him against a filing cabinet and yelling at him to tell him how he knew when he was gay.) They still didn't consider each other friends. Floyd had few people he gave that title to, and Bill wasn't one of them. He had a feeling Bill was the same way, kind of prickly and cold and not interested in letting too many people get too close. If he was anything like Floyd, he had his reasons.

After about an hour and a half, Floyd slipped outside for a cigarette and some alone time to think. He didn't like new intrusions into his social circle, but this one he felt obligated to tolerate. After all, Caballero was his boss, and Bill Needle... well, he was apoplectic, rude, snarky, and condescending, but if he was dating the boss Floyd supposed he had to be tolerated.

He jumped about a foot in the air when the back door opened beside him. "Floyd, can we talk?" Bill. Floyd let out a sigh of mixed relief and frustration. Damn overly sensitive startle response. "Did I scare you?"

"A little. It's not your fault." Floyd stubbed out his cigarette under his heel and looked out over the snow coating the backyard. "What do you need?"

"... Listen, I know we're not friends. I'd barely call us acquaintances." Bill walked to Floyd's side and leaned against the house beside him. "But you're the only person that I know who's gone through anything like this before."

"Like what?"

"When you figured out you liked men, did you have a little voice in the back of your head telling you it was-"

"Bad? Gross? Wrong? Evil?"

"... Yeah."

"You have no idea. I still do." Floyd lit another cigarette and offered the pack to Bill, who accepted the offer gratefully. "Do you think you're not as into him as you thought?"

"No." Bill's response was immediate, no thought required. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "I like him. That's what's scaring me." A pause. "I... I don't know everything about your life history and I don't want to, but I know you've been through a lot. I can't say that about myself. I'm an only child, my parents had money, they were good to me, but... I did grow up in church. I had it jackhammered into me that this, that, and the other were all bad."

"Like?"

"Premarital sex. Sex with anyone outside of your spouse when you do get married. Guys liking guys. All of which I'm guilty of." Bill tapped the ash off his cigarette. "But... I'm not happy in my marriage anymore, and neither is Honey. I think we both know we've fallen out of love with each other but we're either too stupid or too stubborn to admit it."

"Honey knows about you and Caballero, right?"

"She does, and... she changes her mind on how she feels about it every other goddamn hour. One minute, I'm sick and diseased and she doesn't want to breathe the same air as me, and the next it's hot as fuck that I'm seeing another man and she wants to watch us... y'know." Floyd had to hold back a snicker. Bill Needle, caustic and angry critic, could use 'fuck' for emphasis but not to actually describe intercourse. "I just... what do you do when you start hearing that kind of thing? Like, either from other people or yourself? I've never doubted myself before, and... that shit's scary. I don't like it."

Floyd sighed a little and tried to think. "Well... I don't think I'm the person you need to ask about this, because honestly, I still have trouble with doing that." He finished off the cigarette he had barely let out of his mouth while Bill was talking and ground it out under his heel. "But my therapist said something that really made me think. My relationship is pretty healthy, considering. I love Earl and he loves me. He supports me when things get bad for me, and I try my best to do what I can for him when he's upset. We're not hurting anybody. We just... go about our lives and mind our own business." Floyd made eye contact with Bill. "How could that be wrong?"

Bill fell quiet, unusual for him. "... But what if I am hurting someone?"

"Who?"

"Honey."

"She's fucked half the men in this town, and I'm pretty sure the only reason she hasn't fucked the other half is because they're gay, spoken for, or both. You're at least only seeing one person on the side. Aren't you supposed to have an open relationship thing right now, anyway?"

"Yeah, but... I don't know, I guess she'd rather I went out and slept with a bunch of chicks. If I told her I wanted a divorce she'd tell me that this wouldn't happen if I was fucking girls." Bill picked at his fingernails. Floyd couldn't help but wonder what other nervous habits they had in common before Bill continued, "And... and I don't love her, I know I don't, I haven't for years, really, but... I don't know if I _love_ Guy either, you know?"

"Mmmhm."

"I mean... he's handsome and the sex is _fuckin' phenomenal_ , and every time I look at him and he smiles at me my heart skips a couple beats, and he calls me these pet names and every time he does I just die a little because it's so sexy and so sweet, and when he speaks Spanish to me-"

"Okay, yeah, you sound pretty damn infatuated to me." Floyd smiled. "I was the same way when I started going out with Earl. We're still together. He means the world to me. Do with that information what you will, Needle, but for me, that's a good sign."

The pair exchanged a smile before the back door creaked open again and Caballero stepped outside. " _Cariño, ¿estás aquí?_ "

"I didn't know you actually spoke Spanish," Floyd said, chuckling as Caballero started a second before turning in their direction. "I honestly thought you were bullshitting all those years you said you could."

Caballero shot Floyd a bit of a look before saying, almost haughtily, "I'd like to inform you that Spanish is actually my mother tongue." His chest puffed out like a particularly proud bird, Guy wrapped his arm around Bill's shoulders. "Not to mention, _mi rey_ thinks it's sexy as fuck."

Bill simply blushed and nudged his glasses into place. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to let you know we decided we were gonna watch a movie on one of those fancy cable channels Richie Rich here is subscribed to. It might be porn, I'm not sure."

"Ah." Bill's reply was drier than a desert. "Well, as long as I have something to mock, I'm in."

"Come inside, Robertson, it's fuckin' freezing out here," Caballero added to Floyd before he slid his arm to Bill's waist and guided him back inside. Floyd smirked, following them inside. The pair paused once inside, apparently just to _look_ at each other- god, memories of new love came flooding back right then- and Floyd excused himself. He pressed against a kitchen wall out of their sight to eavesdrop, curious.

"Sexy as fuck? Really?"

"Don't hear you complaining."

"I'm not, and you're not wrong, but-"

"But?"

"I don't know, I... I feel like we're-"

"Baby, stop it. You're stressed out."

"Stressed out is just my natural state, Guy."

A lull. Floyd peeked around the doorframe as stealthily as possible. Guy had wrapped both arms around Bill's waist, pulled him close, and was resting his forehead against Bill's. "You need to learn to relax."

"Guy, I would love to, but-"

"Shhh." Guy pressed a finger to Bill's lips. "Listen to me. Is this about Honey? Fuck Honey. She doesn't give a shit about you and she hasn't in years. You're _mine_ now, and if she doesn't like it she can suck a dick." He dropped his hand back to Bill's waist. " _Te amo. Te adoro. Te necesito._ " He punctuated each phrase with a soft kiss, and Floyd swore he could see Bill's legs turn to jelly. Guy smirked. "You okay?"

"... I'm fine," Bill answered, voice cracking. "What did you say just now?"

Guy smiled and tugged Bill even closer. "I said that I love you. I adore you. I need you."

Floyd bit back a soft, fond chuckle and crept out of the kitchen, leaving the infatuated couple to their own devices for a bit. When he returned to the living room, Sammy greeted him with, "Damn, where the hell you been? Doesn't normally take y'that long to smoke."

"Nah. It's a long story." Floyd settled onto the couch beside Earl, purring softly as his lover nestled against him. "You know, I think those two are gonna be together a long time."

"Who? Bill and Caballero?"

"Mmhm." Floyd smiled a little. "They're in the back room macking on each other like teenagers. It's kind of cute."

Earl laughed softly. "Remember when we were like that?"

"Were?"

"... Okay, fair enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guy's spanish, translated:
> 
> "Cariño, ¿estás aquí?" - Honey, are you here? (very literal translation thanks to google translate bc i understand like 3 sentences in spanish that mostly amount to 'i dont speak spanish.' apparently 'carino' is just a general term of endearment that means something to the effect of 'sweetie,' but it's used in several contexts.)  
> "Mi rey" - My king (this one was mentioned in the last guy/bill chapter, but i like it and caballero feels like the 0 to 60 REAL quick kind of person)  
> "Te amo. Te adoro. Te necesito." - I love you. I adore you. I need you. (guy translates this one himself but for completion's sake it's here)


	6. Melonville On Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That most treasured, and Canadian, of winter traditions: ice skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so fun fact i almost 100% forgot abt this today. its still the 6th in some time zones right. (also, while i personally am under the impression that melonville is somewhere in the united states, sctv is still a delightfully canadian production. ice skating seemed about right. :P floyd being good at fucking everything is my favorite thing ever.)

"How did you never learn how to ice skate?" Floyd watched as Earl took a few wobbly, unbalanced steps on the frozen lake. "You've lived in Melonville your entire life, it's cold as fuck in the winter, and you never learned how to ice skate?"

"I was a very accident prone kid and my mother would have wrapped me in insulated bubble wrap if she thought I was even gonna make a snow angel, God forbid ice skating," Earl answered, clinging to Floyd's arm as tightly as he could. "When did you learn?"

"I was five and my sister Daisy taught me." Floyd smiled a little. "My parents didn't give a shit what we were doing as long as we weren't in the house making noise, so." He shrugged and nudged Earl off of him, which lasted about three seconds before his fiance wrapped himself around him again. "Okay, if you wanna learn how to do this, you're gonna have to let go of me eventually."

"Eventually isn't now." Earl glanced down at his feet, praying he could at least keep his balance for a little bit. "How are you good at every single sport ever, and I'm-"

"I'm terrible at bowling," Floyd interrupted, earning an unamused stare from Earl. "What? I'm not good at _everything_." He gently moved Earl off of him again, and gripped his hand. "Okay, listen, I'll show you some basic stuff if you promise to just let go for five seconds. You're cutting off my circulation, doll."

"Fine..." Earl white-knuckled Floyd's hand all the same. "What if I fall?"

"You will. It's part of skating." Floyd let himself glide in front of Earl a bit. "If you think you're gonna fall, try and get down into a squat so you land on your hands and knees instead of your tailbone or your head." He skated a straight line, from left to right, casually, like it was as natural as walking. "Hold your hands out and bend your knees. Lean forward. It helps you keep your balance."

"You say while you showboat with your hands behind your back."

"I've been doing this every winter since I was five, Earl." Floyd skidded to a halt in front of Earl. "Here." He offered him his hand again and smiled warmly. "Just follow my lead."

Earl nodded a little and watched, carefully, trying to mimic Floyd's movements. He bent his knees, leaned forward, put his weight on the balls of his feet, and tried to gently march forward. Doing so earned him a tumble onto his hands and knees.

"Well, not bad for a first try." Floyd helped Earl to his feet. "You did better than my niece the first time she went skating. She took one step and fell on her face. At least you moved a little." Earl brushed some crystals of ice off of his coat as Floyd continued speaking. "It's really not so hard once you get the hang of it," he assured him. "C'mon. Try again."

It took about an hour and a half and about 10 thousand falls, but eventually, Earl got the hang of moving forward. Slowly, yes, and barely able to pick his feet up off the ice, but he was doing it. Next to Floyd, though, he still looked like an uncoordinated preschooler beside an Olympic speed skater. "How do you move so fast?" Earl asked as Floyd darted from one end of the lake to the other.

"Practice." Floyd skated to his fiance's side and kissed his temple. "Years of it. Same way I make three-point shots and tolerate your goofy ass."

"Fuck you."

"I'm okay with that." Floyd smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a blush and soft giggle from Earl. "What? You suggested it."

"Floyd..." Earl smiled and leaned into Floyd's warmth. "I'm freezing my dick off. Can we get off the ice and go get some lunch?"

With a smile, Floyd gently took Earl's hand. "Fine, fine. We can come back tomorrow if you want."

"I don't know. I think I like watching you."

"You like watching me do anything."

Earl laughed quietly. "Yeah, well. Anyone would." He slowly and almost exceedingly carefully scooted across the ice after Floyd. "You're gorgeous."

Earl couldn't really tell if it was from the cold or not, but he swore he saw Floyd turn a rather fetching shade of pink as they made it off the ice.


End file.
